


The Challenge

by Chiapet (twojediandasenator)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-21 04:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19995763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twojediandasenator/pseuds/Chiapet
Summary: A poetic look into 3x01





	The Challenge

**Author's Note:**

> Some old writing I dredged up from years ago that was never posted.

Her hands tremble as

she looks out to sea, swaying 

back and forth, counting 

the uncountable minutes,

and trying to form clear thoughts.

But nothing clear comes.

Her red leather jacket is 

laying on her bunk, 

forgotten as she stares through 

the circled and small window.

The blistering sun 

Reflects off of the water, 

Reminding her of 

the anger she sees in mirrors.

She looks at the metal bar.

Near the low ceiling.

She jumps, and hangs there like a 

Chandelier, until 

Her muscles become active.

She determinedly 

Rises; pulls, lifts, heaves herself 

Upwards, her palms rough 

And scratching against the rust.

She prepares for a battle.

‘What are you doing?’ 

I ask her. I step inside, 

Unable to see 

Her face and thoughts pondering 

behind beautiful green eyes.

She pauses and breathes.

‘Getting ready for a fight,’ 

My lady replies, 

Voice strained as the hard muscles

Defy gravity, tensing.

She is too stubborn 

Of a woman to follow

Nature’s inherit 

Rules. A smile plays at my lips, 

Turning the corners upwards.

I beckon for her 

To come down. I hear myself 

Say she looks silly, 

In a playful, teasing lilt. 

She doesn’t think my words nice.

She sits, eyes alert, 

Upon the edge of a box, 

taking a deep breath 

As the oxygen struggles

in returning to her lungs. 

She is watching me 

In suspicion. I offer 

Her the sword that has 

Been latent within my hand. 

Her eyes drift down to the blade.

Old, sharp, bright metal. 

She considers the weapon 

I give it over.

It balances in her hands 

She gazes over at me.

I’m smiling at her.

I recite the history, 

trying to distract 

From any good qualities

she may mistake me to have.

She remains intrigued, 

And she carefully places

the blade to the side.

She stands, and I step away.

Her lips turn downwards at me.

‘Thanks’ she says, her eyes 

Darting at the open door, 

Looking for escape,

While my eyes stay on her lips,

Wanting them pressed on mine.

‘Welcome,’ I reply, 

Yet there is disappointment. 

She smiles, and looks down 

At her feet, crosses her arms, 

over her heart, protecting;

Challenging me to steal it.

I smile. I love a challenge.

  
  
  



End file.
